


Kept Boy

by orphan_account



Category: James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Mission Fic, Prostitution, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 16:15:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a dirty tidbit for the mic to record and for him ponder over when he reports back to Dmitri.</p><p>Kink Meme Prompt: Bond is a high-priced escort hired by M.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kept Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Here is where I got my Daniel/Judi parts from:  
> ~http://www.wetpaint.com/network/gallery/hollywoods-biggest-actors-below-the-belt/photo/hollywoods-biggest-daniel-craig#6  
> ~http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UgH7PSvSCb0

_This is ridiculous_ , she tells herself after hanging up the phone. She is head of MI6, and has been for the past fifteen years, and they were putting _her_ in the field? All because some insane target of theirs had an affinity for shelling out young male prostitutes to old women who had large sums of money from dead husbands and jewelry to make the Queen jealous. They only wanted her because she was old. M huffs in annoyance.

At least Bond was the “boy” they were sending her. She hadn't been sure that he would get in the Russian man's good graces, but he had surprised her, yet again. Always getting away with the impossible, that one. He was going to be bugged though, and that was what had her nervous. Apparently, they had him wearing a mic in his clothes that he was instructed to leave by the bed while wooing the women, hoping to get them to spill where the money, jewels, and paintings were kept. Once the information was obtained, well, who is surprised to hear that a woman in her late seventies passed away in her sleep? It's the missing heirlooms that have begun to tip people off, which is where they come in. If it was simply robbery, the police would be more than capable of handling things, but in the upper echelons of Dmitri's circles, it was far more than that. Male and female prostitution rings, armed robbery, he almost definitely had his hand in the drug business, and lord only knew what else. 

So they put Bond in the sex ring and 003 on the drugs and 008 on the murder cases and hoped for the best. They were each supposed to be checking in with their respective COs while M played bait. Yes, she was to be a “regular” until Bond finally got her to spill her secrets. And when the hired guns finally came for her, it would be Bond they would be dealing with. They already had a safe house picked out for her after her check-ins with Bond.

There's a knock at her door. She takes another swallow of her drink before going to answer it. 

Bond greets her with a smirk when she opens the door with a small gasp of surprise. His usual dapper suit has been traded in for incredibly tight jeans and a white tee shirt that perfectly accentuated his muscled chest and abdomen. Both items of clothing left quite little to the imagination, though “little” was entirely inaccurate. Once she's had an eyeful of him—he's supposed to be a kept boy; she's allowed to enjoy this, she reasons—she invites him in.

“Care for a drink?”

“Martini. Shaken, not stirred.”

That devilish smirk has yet to leave his face. He's enjoying himself far too much. She rolls her eyes as she turns to mix his drink and tries not to think about the way the crotch of his jeans was bulging, though whether from their tightness or the pills Dmitri's boys probably had to take, she couldn't say. She feels her cheeks go pink. 

He thanks her when she hands him his drink. 

“You look lovely, ma'am. Those pearls are exquisite on you. I'm surprised someone as beautiful as you has to call in someone like me.”

The flatterer!

“Yes, well, my husband, he, well, he was ill. And his heart had always troubled him since the War. He-he—”

She isn't sure how comfortable she is with the fact that she is playing the part of weepy widow, but she was always one to commit to an act until the play was over.

He cuts her off.

“Ma'am, I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better? Do you want to talk somewhere more comfortable?”

M shakes her head; Bond was just as good at committing as she was. The cad.

“Yes, yes, enough sad talk for tonight. Won't you join me in my bedroom?”

Though he's been in her flat several times before, he follows behind her. He ensures to keep in character and allows her to take charge. He would never want to make her feel uncomfortable around him, especially considering how close they are going to be this evening. 

“Go sit on the bed,” she instructs, which he does after toeing off his shoes and socks by the door.

He is sure to place the mic in plain view on her nightstand to assure her that there are no other recording devices on him when he sits down. She nods her thanks. 

She supposes she should at least sit next to him on the bed. She knows that sometime soon she will have to pretend they are making love, which is a much bigger step than simply sitting down. But when she moves to do so, she stops a few steps short of the bed, and James looks at her with concern.

“I won't hurt you.”

M takes a shaky breath. She knows it's true; he never would, not on purpose. He's always been different around her. Roguish, but respectful. Assertive, but deferential. She's never felt this vulnerable in front of him before, and this feeling of uncertainty is throwing her off her game.

He reaches out for her hands, and she takes the plunge and reaches hers out to meet his. He holds them gently as he carefully pulls her closer to him until she's standing between his open thighs. 

“There, that wasn't terrible, was it? I promise not to bite. Unless you want me to.”

He winks at her, something the mic won't record, and she shoves him on the shoulder for being cheeky. He laughs a bit as he moves with her hand until he's laying back on her bed. She follows him up the bed and moves to straddle his waist.

Ok, she's gotten this far, though she's knows she's taken more coaxing than she should have needed. She's tired of feeling rusty, decides to damn it all to hell, and leans forward until she's kissing him deeply, tongue feeling like it's gone half way down his throat. He moans into it, and she feels him hitch his hips up. It's a gratifying feeling to have elicited such a reaction from the great James Bond. The next thing she knows, he's got his hands on her hips, and he's guiding her down to grind against her for some delicious friction.

“Mmmm, Daniel, you feel so big,” she mock-whispers, using his fake name.

It's a dirty tidbit for the mic to record and for him ponder over when he reports back to Dmitri.

“And you're a tease, ma'am,” he husks, feeling himself stiffen the more they thrust against each other.

“Going to do something about that, Dan?”

He reverses their positions in answer and goes in for some more deep kisses that leave M breathless. The reservations she had had before are leaving her the more she allows herself to enjoy this. She had gone into this thinking of this only as a job, but she's starting to see why James always takes the missions where sex is involved. There's a sort of dangerous pleasure to it. Either one of them could be stricken down tonight or tomorrow because of this game they're playing, and if this truly is her or his last mission, who is she to say they can't enjoy it a bit?

“Mind if I get you out of that dress?”

This is above and beyond the call of duty, and they both know it. It's hard to mimic kissing noises, but sex noises can be made without anything remotely sexual going on. She should refuse him and go back to play acting, but if she's being honest with herself, she doesn't really want to stop. There has always been this tension between them. A fine line between business and pleasure that they have been careful not to cross. But here they are now, with an opportunity to combine the two and ease the awful ache of not having enough.

“Please do,” she murmurs breathlessly.

With a bit of maneuvering, her dress and stockings come off. She moves to unclasp her string of pearls, but he rasps, "Leave them on."

His ridiculous excuse for a tee shirt soon meets the floor. It is her turn to stop him when he goes to undo his jeans.

“Wait.”

He looks up at her from his kneeling position in the middle of her bed looking every bit the kept boy he's playing at. His sky blue eyes have gone dark with arousal, and his kiss-sore lips pout a bit as his hands still on the button of his jeans.

“Let me do that.”

His worried look fades from his face. He was tense at the thought that he had crossed a line. He knew that what they had was incredibly fragile. One false move on his part could potentially ruin what they had inside and outside the workplace. He wants her badly, but not enough to do something untoward. There's always been something there, something different from all the other women and girls he had had. Something he had never been able to quantify other than to say that sometimes when he saw her, he ached in a way that went far deeper than something that was just sexual, though that too was a part of it. To call it love would be too dangerous. 

This could have been nothing more than fake shag between the two of them with superficial kisses and overdone moans. Now look where they were. M was in her underclothes, lacy black silk, the minx, and he was wearing nothing more than jeans that felt like a second skin without a scrap of fabric beneath them. And God, that pearl necklace makes him feel like he's fucking a duchess. To top it all off, _she_ is the one who wants to expose him. If he bulges anymore, the damn pants will be too tight to get them off.

M doesn't drag it out; she makes quick work of button and zipper, peeling the denim down his hips to get a better look.

“Can't even call that a cock. It's an absolute monster, is what it is,” she says in blithe approval.

“Oh fuck,” he groans as it twitches at her words.

“That's the plan.”

He can't hold himself back anymore after that. He pushes her back against the mattress again and pulls her panties down. Without much preamble, he looks up at her from between her thighs, waits for her nod of approval, and makes good use of his lips and tongue. He moans into her heat when she grabs his head and holds him as her body begins to respond with slick. His fingers show up at her plea for, “More, more, Daniel!”

He feels her tremble when she's close, and he even gets her to arch a bit when she comes with the force of a much younger woman. James licks her through warm waves of pleasure until she has to stop him when oversensitivity sets in. James pulls back to find that he isn't the only one panting heavily. She whimpers again when he licks his lips clean of her, and fuck if that doesn't make him that extra bit harder.

He goes back between her legs and moves his hands to cup her tits. Honestly, they're gorgeous, and he's sure to lavish their due attention just as soon as he can get her bra off her. It's his lucky day that she has a front clasp.

“Daniel, _please_ ,” she begs, unable to wait a second longer.

He's glad she asked; he can't wait anymore either.

He takes his cock in his hand and rubs the head up and down her slickness, pressing the tip in just a little bit. He's knows he's large, and although he wants nothing more than to just shove in, the last thing he wants to do is harm her. She tenses when he presses the first couple inches into her.

“You alright?” he pants. “I---I can stop.”

She lets out a shaky breath. “Don't you even dare.”

She takes a few calming breaths, which he takes as permission to proceed. He meets no more resistance until his groin is flush with hers. He's completely surrounded by glorious, slick heat, and her hand is petting him gently as he struggles in his wait for her to adjust to his size.

“Such a good boy. You're being so good,” she praises. “Doing such a good job.”

Her praise hits him right in the heart as he knows she's not just saying that for the benefit of the ever-present mic. He knows she means it, and damn it if that doesn't draw out a sob from him, hips stuttering as the need to move overwhelms him.

“Go on,” she murmurs. “Take what you need. You're such a good boy.”

He had been fighting to hold himself above her to keep from crushing her, but he's overtaken by the need to be inside and near her that he falls to his elbows and tucks his face into her neck as his hips begin to thrust forward and back almost of their own volition. She holds him close as he lets himself go, taking everything he's giving her.

“You're so brave, James,” she whispers, low enough that he'll be the only one who hears. “You're such a brave agent.”

Her words hurtle him to the edge faster than the dirtiest words or the skimpiest outfits. It is her gentleness and sweet words that do him in, that has him plunging into her with abandon.

“Gonna come, M,” he whispers back. He's so close now.

“It's alright. Do it. You've earned it.”

He moans long and low as his cock pulses and pulses inside her, filling her with his warmth. She almost comes again herself as she watches him lose control. He shoves inside her, hard, once more, and she can't hold back her shout of, “Daniel!”

She remembers his alias just in the nick of time.

They're breathless in the aftermath, and the last thing James wants to do is leave her. It would look suspicious if he stayed. It will be bad enough explaining away why he sounded so sincere when he came. With difficulty, he pulls himself away from her with one last kiss to her soft lips. She whimpers a bit when he withdraws from her.

“That was fun, ma'am. Maybe we can do it again?” he asks coolly as he begins to redress himself.

“I'd like that very much, Daniel.”

He puts the mic back in his shirt pocket.

“You have my number, ma'am?”

M smirks. “You know I do.”

James bows. “Then I'll see myself out and hope to see you again.”

When she hears the front door close, she collapses back against her pillows and drifts off to the smell of him on her sheets.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Expensive Pleasures](https://archiveofourown.org/works/836454) by [LadyDuchess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDuchess/pseuds/LadyDuchess)




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